


a series of mistakes increasing in severity

by Nappinginthegrave



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: AU where they're not related. In case it's not clear, Incest, M/M, PWP, Shifting Power Dynamic, Size Difference, Size Kink, and i don't know why i wrote this but how is that new, another one in which i completely ignore they're related, does this make it a series?, dubious consent for an unwanted facial, even less restraint than the no restraint i typically display, how would one even tag that?, kind of a bit of roleplay, oh dear god i'm sorry if you speak italian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nappinginthegrave/pseuds/Nappinginthegrave
Summary: "Is that why all you Americans are so soft? All this giving and getting?"so i learned the phrase war of attrition and never really recoveredWhat happens behind a locked office door.
Relationships: Gaetano Fadda/Josto Fadda
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	a series of mistakes increasing in severity

Gaetano came and went as he pleased. Privacy wasn’t his concern. Something he made abundantly clear with how often he’d tucked himself away in Josto’s office. On the occasions where Josto was present, he was most often shooed away like a stray cat. Still, Gaetano was never discouraged from walking in uninvited.

The hinges of his door squeak no matter how frequently they’ve been oiled. It usually serves as a warning for Josto, but he found himself too engrossed in a newspaper article to look up. Even the click of the lock being turned doesn’t shake him.

“Cos’è questo?” _What’s this?_ He smiles at the way he startled Josto out of his thoughts. There’s something about sneaking up on him and watching him flinch in surprise that’s tremendously pleasing. Gaetano takes the espresso cup filled with condensed milk sitting by Josto’s left hand. He sniffs it once, nose wrinkling in a recoil. “You drink this?”

“No.” Josto’s cheeks darken in response to Gaetano’s visible disgust. “I don’t drink it.” He can’t exactly say it’s not his. He tries to defend his tastes. “It’s good in small amounts.” Josto stands up to take the cup back. Regret shooting down to make a hot weight in his stomach when his sticky fingers brush Gaetano’s hand.

Gaetano’s eyes brighten in understanding. “Ah!” He smiles. He turns his wrist and licks slowly at the side of his hand. “Not bad.” He enjoys being watched.

Josto sat back down. It’s his decision to read the same sentence a dozen times over. Gaetano’s sat on his desk and made himself comfortable. He finds it too amusing to pester.

“Voglio un ufficio.” Gaetano breaks the silence.

“You don’t need an office.”

Gaetano puts on a devious smirk in response to Josto’s dismissive tone. “I want one,” he emphasizes.

“What would you even-” Josto looks up in confusion.

“I use yours, yeah?”

“What? No!” He’s not sure why the idea offends him so, but it does.

“It’s good. Offices have privacy.” Gaetano dips his index finger into the condensed milk before bringing it to his mouth.

Josto's eyes follow the motion, but then he looks down and presses his thighs together under the desk. “You’re not getting your own office. There’s not any room in the house for it, anyway.”

“You’re right.” Gaetano nods firmly. “I use yours.”

It’s on purpose. Josto knows this. He knows this and yet he can feel his face getting hot in frustration at Gaetano’s obstinance. It doesn’t help to have those dark eyes staring down at him, cutting through him and any front of strength he might put up. “Okay,” he relents. At least this time can be made quick and painless.

Gaetano frowns at this. Live prey is greatly more appealing than dead. “What’s wrong with you?” He tilts his head, standing up. “You don’t defend your own territory. It’s shameful.”

“It’s a desk and a chair. Not a city district.” Josto stands as well. He steps into Gaetano’s personal space but steps back when Gaetano doesn’t retreat. He turns away and questions why he attempted intimidation when it’s so rarely worked before. “I have to pick my battles a little more carefully.” In the corner of the room is a small basin of water where he can wipe away the stickiness from his fingers. It’s a danger and a relief to turn his back on Gaetano.

“You shouldn’t be so soft.” Gaetano puzzles at a thought, his hands fidgeting by his side.

Josto frowns at this.

“Perdonami per quello che ho fatto.” _Forgive me for what I have done_. Gaetano hugs Josto as soon as he turns around. He sinks onto his knees and presses his face into Josto’s middle. “Mio capo. I’ve made you frightened, and this is no good for a leader.”

With slow and awkward movements, Josto manages to free his arms. He rests a hand on Gaetano’s head. Shock was over and he found his body getting a different reaction to the close embrace. “It’s all right,” he murmurs half-heartedly. He holds onto Gaetano’s shoulder, unsure if he wants to move him closer or further away. Pressed so tightly together, it’s difficult for Josto to hide his growing excitement.

“No. You have to know your strength.” Gaetano looks up to Josto. “It was arrogance for me to push you. I am not good with teaching. I want to help, but fail.” He laments the last words, shaking his head. “You learn different from me. That’s okay. But I need new strategy.”

Gaetano continues. “Come si dice-” _How do you say_ \- “Carrot and stick.” He nods once to himself. “Before was stick.” Gaetano indicates towards his face with a raised fist. “Now is carrot.” The same hand unclenches and moves to unbuckle Josto’s trousers.

Josto freezes. “Wait. Not- not here. There are still people in the house,” he chokes out. Josto’s half hard in his boxers as Gaetano presses his lips over him. “Fuck.” His voice is low, almost hissed out.

“Non essere rumoroso allora.” _Don’t be noisy then_. Gaetano pulls down Josto’s boxers and takes him in his hand, dipping his head lower to kiss at his thighs and balls. He strokes quick and steady until Josto’s fully hard.

Josto struggles to breathe evenly. When Gaetano puts his mouth over him, Josto’s entire body clenches in nervousness, but he relaxes into it. He’s thick, but fits in Gaetano’s mouth comfortably. The dresser behind him hits the wall with a deep thud as he presses back. The only support he can manage is a death grip digging into the wood of the dresser. His legs weaken further with each second. Josto lets his fingers rest on Gaetano’s hair, but he doesn’t dare to thrust or pull him in.

“I want you to know- know that you can trust me.” Gaetano moves away, panting softly. Drool coats his lips and drips enough so he has to wipe his mouth. With Josto’s trousers hanging loose it only takes a small tug for them to fall to the floor. Gaetano takes hold of his legs and helps Josto step free.

Josto had been quite proud of himself for staying quiet, but he found it difficult to find words now that he’d stopped. Racing at a mile a minute, Josto wondered if his heart might break through his ribcage and flop around like a fish on the floor. Admittedly, he was a little lost in the moment.

Gaetano rises up to stand before pushing Josto in to a kiss. He feels hungry for it, perhaps too rough. He tries not to bite too hard. The squeaked-out gasps of pleasure make it feel right. It’s only a few steps for him to push the other man back into his seat. Things seem easier once Gaetano doesn’t have to worry about Josto falling.

He bows before looking up. Because of his height, he’s hunched over somewhat uncomfortably, but Gaetano doesn’t waver. “This chair will always be yours.” Reverence given is more akin to worship at an altar or throne, rather than a simple desk chair.

“Uh, I know,” Josto replies. Somewhat bleary. He hears everything but is more focused on how hot he feels with Gaetano knelt between his spread legs.

“This. Belongs. To. You.” He highlights each word with a kiss over Josto’s length. A sigh of contentment escapes him when Josto reaches down to grab his hair. “Take it.” Gaetano’s hand tightens on Josto’s thigh and he doesn’t stop until he feels the bite of nails in his scalp.

Despite Gaetano’s enthusiastic insistence, it still doesn’t feel right. Josto opens and closes his fist a few times on Gaetano’s head from hesitance. “You won’t be mad?” His voice comes out quieter than he meant to, but he’s heard all the same. He shudders a bit when a hot wet mouth takes in the tip of his dick and sucks idly. “Okay.” Instead of bobbing up and down right away, Gaetano forces Josto to make the first move. And it’s slow, almost ginger. The tentative motions don’t stay for long, switching from one hand to both to hold onto Gaetano. This amount of control over someone twice his size has his cock twitching.

Gaetano had initially held onto Josto for reassurance, but now as his mouth was being used in earnest, he needed to hold on to remain steady. Spit and pre spill from his lips, his eyes screwed shut. With the addition of Josto thrusting, he can reach into Gaetano’s throat. He’s tempted to pull away and tell Josto to slow down, but it took so long just to get to this point. Halting the momentum seemed a mistake.

“I’m gonna- fuck. I’m close. Is it okay if- Fuck it.” Josto forgoes politeness and yanks Gaetano back and forth a handful of times more before pushing in to the hilt and coming, holding firm. It feels so good to have Gaetano swallow around him that he can’t seem to care about whether this move will get him punched, again. “Holy shit.” He lets go as soon as he remembers himself. Gaetano pulls off smoothly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. Sorry.” Josto holds a closed hand to his face in worry. But instead of punishment, Gaetano’s smiling up at him. Gasping a little as he leans his head on Josto’s thigh, but certainly pleased with what happened.

“That’s good.” Gaetano speaks with a rough voice, tongue peeking out to lick Josto clean. “A capo _should_ take what he wants.” He stands after a moment. Cramps in his stiff legs make it so he can only manage to sit on the desk. He hasn’t entirely found his breath. “You’re strong. Come il toro,” _Like the bull,_ he utters with a smile. Gaetano reaches back and dips a finger into the condensed milk and cleanses his palate. “But you don’t taste very good,” he teases.

Josto gets up from his chair and cradles Gaetano’s head to lean up. “Really.” It was intended to be a question but fell short. Strong arms snake around his lower back and he’s pulled closer. They both laugh slightly into the kiss. Somewhere between freshly off an orgasm and oxygen deprived, things got very funny. And Gaetano’s right. Underneath the thick sweetness of the cream, Josto tastes acrid and sour and salty. He’s not sure how Gaetano stomached it, but Josto supposes he didn’t leave much option but to swallow. He’s only slightly guilty. They separate slowly, finding it difficult to part but impossible to ignore the burning need for air in their lungs.

“I want to- I’d like to try. With you, I mean.” Josto licks his lips, a little giddy.

“If you want.” Gaetano gives him a chaste peck on the cheek. “But be slow.”

Josto nods as he kneels. “You can sit in the chair, if you’d like.” He gives a sidelong glance.

Gaetano considers it, but looking at himself, he realizes he would be spilling off the edge in order to open his legs just a few inches. “No. Desk is better.” He holds Josto’s face. “Besides, that’s yours.”

The affirmation makes Josto happier than he expected. His spine straightens that little bit extra. “Uh, do you wanna?” He tilts his head forward. Patiently, perhaps excitedly, watching Gaetano unzip and pull his cock out. “ _Oh_ …Wow.” Josto wasn’t entirely experienced. Aside from the occasional incident in saunas and shower rooms, he was able to live a life without ever having to see another dick. It was almost bizarre to see one this close up and unattached to him.

He can sense Gaetano’s intent stare from above. Josto takes a second to consider before touching him. Once he does, he’s overcome by how it’s heavy in his hand and arousal prickles in his stomach. “You’re- um-” _You’re bigger than I expected_ , he wants to say, but it’d only give Gaetano a swollen head. It’s just more flesh, but for whatever reason it smells different, tastes different, feels different. Josto’s cautious and starts with kitten licks along the side as he strokes. Once he wets it enough, he goes to wrap his lips around the tip. It intimidates and turns him on slightly with how wide he has to stretch his jaw to fit in Gaetano. He stops moving before long, not quite reaching halfway. Tears prickle at his eyes.

“It won’t bite.” Gaetano smirks as he waggles his hips.

Josto’s face is tight as he tries to articulate what he wants to say. He wants to be good, to make it good for Gaetano. It shouldn’t surprise him that it’s easier to be on the receiving end of a blowjob. “I thought this would go better. I don’t know really. I’m getting too much into my own head.”

He lets the ruminates on the problem. “Concentrate.” Gaetano has the espresso cup at the ready, dipping his index finger in it before painting a few lines down his length. “Va bene, prova ora.” _Okay, try it now._

The cloying sweetness does offer something to focus on, but the condensed milk only serves to make his spit thicker and stickier. It gets caught in the back of his throat and it feels like Gaetano’s going to reach his stomach. He’d never paid close attention to his gag reflex before, but it’s making its presence well known on this occasion. Josto pulls off to cough and trails a spiderweb string of saliva. Leant against Gaetano’s leg, he finds himself worn ragged.

Gaetano’s hand is substantial enough to be a noticeable weight even without him exerting downward pressure. It seems a threat even when he’s genuinely asking, “Do you want help?” He pets across Josto’s hair before letting his palm rest atop the top of Josto’s head.

There are a dozen scenarios where being overpowered makes him rock hard, but Gaetano’s hand in his hair only reminds Josto of being knocked out cold in front of his whole crew. The bruise might’ve healed, but it left him with an indelible memory. “W-wait. No. Let go.” He backs up, eyes narrowing in a reaction just shy of fearful. “Don’t do that. I want to do this on my own.”

“Maybe this idea is no good. It’s too big for you, no?” Concern laces each word. Gaetano cocks his head to the side as he looks down at the smaller man.

“I didn’t say I wanted to stop." Josto shakes his head. "I just can't do it all at once.” Gaetano catches him in a palm, cradling his face to look up. Josto closes his eyes to appreciate the calming warmth. He huffs softly to himself. “You are big,” he admits. He doesn’t make eye contact but does smile, can practically feel his cheeks getting darker. “You could really hurt me if you wanted to.” The threat of pain has a jolt of excitement pushing out of his nerves. He presses the heel of his palm into a growing erection.

“No,” Gaetano replies. “I would never want to. Not really. Only for fun.” The tip of his thumb brushes across Josto’s mouth. A barely there touch where Josto thinks he can feel each ridge of his fingerprint against his lips. His demeanor drops to be more somber. “In the silence of the night, under the light of the stars and the splendor of the moon, I vow to safeguard my wise capo and do your will.” He repeats the oath of poison as if it were a holy hymn that binds them. Perhaps it is.

Each syllable hits Josto like a clap of thunder. No matter how many times he hears it or replays the memory in his mind, he’ll never tire of the words. It nails him in place so effectively, a baseball bat could hit him and he wouldn’t budge.

A swell of heat makes Josto’s chest feel tight. “Hey, can I- I want to ask you.” He faces the ground for a moment before looking up at Gaetano with a hopeful half-smile. “Can you call me ‘boss?’”

“Boss?” Gaetano’s staring down at him with an amused and quizzical expression.

Josto is pushing through his embarrassment for the payload of hearing Gaetano say it. “Please? And- and just keep talking.” He’s relieved when he gets a nod in reply. When he holds Gaetano’s dick with a few fingers at the base, he’s able to fit the rest in his mouth easier.

“Ciao capo, ti fa sentire bene avere il mio cazzo nel bocca?” _Hey boss, does it feel good to have my cock in your mouth?_ “Ti piace?” _Do you like it?_ “Maybe next time you can fit the whole thing. We’ll work up to it. I’ll break you in like a new pair of gloves.” Gaetano is casual with his touch. His fingers are petting at the short hairs at the nape of Josto’s neck. If it weren’t for the rough edge from Josto previously fucking his throat, Gaetano sounded like he could be having a normal conversation. It’s a combination of arousing and demoralizing that Gaetano can speak so calmly through this.

He forgoes balance with his free hand as he desperately needs to jerk off. Gaetano stops him from touching himself by pushing at Josto’s arm with a boot. “Greedy. Selfish for you to go twice when you haven’t even finished with me. Try it again, and I’ll make you regret it.”

The last statement hit Josto the wrong way. It felt distinctly un-bosslike to have Gaetano speak to him like that. The play had veered too much into the tail wagging the dog that he was trying to avoid. He moved back. “I don’t wanna do this anymore.” Josto held his lips together but stopped himself before pulling a full pout.

“Really?” Gaetano raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“All right. Un minuto.” _One minute_. Gaetano pushed his thumb to Josto’s lips and was pleased when the other opened for him. He slid his hand to hold Josto’s chin and formed a fish hook at the corner of his mouth to lower Josto’s jaw.

“That’s really good, boss. Just stay still.” Gaetano kept him open with one hand while stroking himself with the other. It was quick for him to start coming ropes over Josto’s face. Some primal part of him felt satisfaction at the act, almost claiming Josto as his own. It took him a second to recognize Josto’s head was shaking as he struggled to get free. Gaetano let his hand go limp but appeared quite satisfied as he watched the other man.

Josto stood up and grabbed at a paper on his desk. Wasting no time to spit in it before wiping his face. “If I’m going to be your capo, then you can’t do that. I don’t care that you’re stronger.” Josto’s eyebrows are knit together in anger, but a blushed tone on his features tells a larger story.

“You still look hard.” Gaetano shrugs off Josto’s discouragement and smiles. “Come here.” He pats his thigh and Josto leans back against him. He snakes his arms around Josto and speaks into the back of his ear. “Go ahead. Toccarsi.” _Touch yourself_.

Josto found himself intoxicated with the feeling of being surrounded by Gaetano. He didn’t have a chance to fall to pieces with Gaetano holding him so snugly. Dark whispers from behind him had Josto jerking off even faster.

Gaetano had on a devious half smirk as he spoke. “You like that? Boss, you looked good on your knees. I wish I could fit all the way inside you, but it still felt good. You want me to hurt you next time? I could grab you and shove myself down your throat. You wanna choke around me, boss? I know you like it rough.” He palmed Josto’s neck, and before he had even squeezed, he got to watch him come onto the floor. Josto had pressed his hand over Gaetano’s. First limp, then pressing hard to choke himself, then pulling Gaetano’s hand away entirely.

“Fuck,” Josto gasped out. He felt especially thankful for the arms supporting him as he caught his breath for the next minute. After spewing filth, Gaetano was quietly nuzzling Josto’s head. It was enough to get Josto laughing, soft at first then building up until his legs were solid enough to spin around and support him as he kissed Gaetano. Short but plentiful. A dozen small kisses in rapid succession as he held Gaetano’s face.

Gaetano looks down to him for approval. “Buono?”

“Molto buono.” They’re both grinning fools. “Is someone sneaking you dirty English lessons?”

“No...I learned a little from Calamita.”

As if a demon summoned by the proclamation of his name, there’s a rapping at the door followed by Calamita’s voice. “Boss, you in there? Meeting in 10.”

“Got it,” Josto says loudly before going into a panic. He dropped down and wiped at the floor with a blank page then added it to the trash.

Gaetano is able to put himself back together and threw Josto’s pants onto the desk.

Josto is so quick to zip up he almost circumcises himself. “Shit, shit, fuck. Man, you gotta get out of here.” He runs a hand through his currently wild hair and ransacks his drawers for a comb. Josto throws away some soiled paper and arranges his desk somewhat neatly. “Take this.” He thrusts the espresso cup into Gaetano’s hands before physically pushing him out of the way. “I’m not kidding. Leave.”

“Ciao ciao.” Said right before slinking out the door. Looking terribly pleased with himself.

As soon as the door was closed Josto stopped all motion and planted both hands on his desk. Eyes closed to take in a deep breath. “Fuck.” He didn’t have the luxury of much time to collect himself, so a few seconds would have to suffice. There was a mad dash to his file cabinet to get everything he needed. It was about the time he got one front and back page of chicken scratch notes that he heard another knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Antoon enters the room. “Hey boss. Everyone’s gonna be heading to Guigino’s, now. Did you want me to drive you?”

“No, no. I’m okay. Go on.” Josto doesn’t look up from his papers, waving him off. “I’ll be a bit. I just have to work through one more thing.”

“All right. Oh.” He took two steps closer, the sound of it causing Josto to look up. “Boss, you have something on your face.” Antoon rubbed at the side of his upper lip to indicate the smudge. “You should stop drinking condensed milk, yunno. It’ll rot your teeth, Josto.”

His eyebrows shot up as he instinctively covered his mouth. “Uh. Thanks.” He only put his hand down once Antoon had waved goodbye and left. “Yeah. I really should.” Josto rummaged through his desk for a handkerchief. He spat on it and scrubbed his skin pink before stepping over to his mirror to double-check himself. In a rush, he pocketed what he needed then was out the door.

He munched on a handful of snow as he walked through the yard. It did little to settle his nerves.

A mixture of heady arousal and dread swam through his stomach when he saw Gaetano. Peaceful as can be with his eyes closed, leaning against the driver’s side of the car. What a rotten bastard.

Gaetano peeked out of one eye when Josto kicked at his boot. “You take too long. Everyone’s gone already.”

Josto ignores the teasing and counters. “Shut up. I’m driving.”

Gaetano stepped aside. He had his hand on the back door handle for only a second before Josto was barking ‘no’ at him. “Only kidding. Scusi.” He was quick to walk to the other side.

Josto had a death grip on the wheel as he pulled out of the driveway. A few minutes in, he was forced to relax his shoulders or else he would’ve pulled something. “Maybe an office would be good. I, uh, I can get you an apartment in town. You’re probably tired of being cooped up in the house with everyone, anyway. This way you’ll have your own space. P-privacy.” Josto stumbles over the last word. 

“Thanks, boss.” He watches with interest as Josto reacts to the title like it causes him physical pain. Gaetano stretched out his arms, reaching behind Josto but not quite touching him.

Josto has never had better posture in his entire life. His spine is stretched and straight enough that it might split if he exerts another ounce of effort. All he can think about is not crashing the car and figuring out how to strike ‘boss’ out of Gaetano’s vocabulary. At least until he’s signed the lease on the apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> i know it's bad to do this. don't speak to me. don't look at me. don't breathe in my direction. if your airspace touches my airspace, then i'll throw a wrench at you


End file.
